


Migraine

by 7CuteCreationImagination7



Series: Five!Verse [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Adopted Sibling Relationship, F/M, Five!Verse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Steve Harrington, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7CuteCreationImagination7/pseuds/7CuteCreationImagination7
Summary: Steve doesn't feel too good, and doesn't want anyone to know. Too bad that his little sister, Eleven can see right through him.





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is a little oneshot, post Five. 
> 
> I'm not too sure how accurate this is, medically, so if anything needs changing please tell me so I can make this better.
> 
> I love you all, and I hope you enjoy this shameless Steve whump.
> 
> Lots of Love and God Bless, 7CCI7

Steve was feeling good.

The kids were at his house for almost all of the weekend, Joyce and Hopper had gone to a conference in Montana, so Jonathan, Will and El were staying with him.The Sinclairs and Erica had gone to see a movie, something about a princess, so Lucas came with Will, and everyone else had eventually decided that they would stay at his house. 

   Will, and Jonathan were in the upstairs guest room, Mike, Lucas and Dustin were in the attic, and the girls, Nancy, Max and El were in the other guest room. Whoever had designed this house had either been vey sociable, or extremely rich. It was going to be the perfect weekend, he was just hoping that no seizures and no migaines would  interrupt the fun.

Obviously he took precautions. His medicines were shut in a safe under his bed, along with his baby pictures and his mother’s phone number. He exercised at the crack of dawn to exhaust his body and mind so he wouldn’t have nightmares in front of the kids. Everything was working like a swiss clock, ticking at the right time. Or like a theatre performance when no one misses their cues, and everyone remembers their lines.

Whatever. He hadn’t been at school when metaphors were introduced.

Everyone was gathered around the dining room table, playing Monopoly. El had been banned from using her powers, and she had been pouting about it, like a sad puppy, until she gave up. Mike’s raven brows were furrowed, him and Dustin making a formidable team, Max and Lucas being their main competitors. Nancy and Jonathan had given up quite fast, neither caring for maths nor economics.

( Yeah. His ex-girlfriend and his friend were currently holding hands. He tried not to think about it.)

Will and El had also given up quite quickly, and were both in the kitchen, helping him prepare dinner.

Steve liked cooking. He’d never been about to tell Tommy, or Carol, or Jessica or even Tim about it because apparently, “guys don’t cook”.

So apparently, to" be a man", he had to starve to death or eat store-bought chips.

Yeah, no.

He had hidden it, but he had grabbed a bunch of cookbooks and taught himself how to cook, you know, without setting everything on fire. To be honest, it was quite fun. It was methodical structured, and it was really, one of the only things in life in which you did work, and got the fruits of your labour relatively quickly.

El and Will both enjoyed cooking too. Dustin did also, but he was currently reeling in fake money, and had sweets in his hands, therefore, his interest in cooking had waned.

El was happily kneading dough, Will was stirring the tomato sauce, and he was chopping the vegetables, ham and cheese. Everything was going swimmingly.

Until a small black dot began to form in his vision. At first he didn’t recognise it, thinking it was a spec of dust, or the reflection of the knife. But as the dot steadily grew, and it got increasingly difficult to continue chopping in straight lines, he understood, and nearly groaned with how inconvenient this was.

A migraine was coming, he had about fifteen minutes before the pain would hit, and the group of people that were in his house both couldn’t know of his predicament, and wouldn’t leave.

Great.

Fan-flipping-tastic.

Steve knew that this was going to be very hard to hide. When he got migraines he went pale, and basically shut himself in dark rooms, both light and the horrifyingly bright colours of people’s emotions hurting his eyes.

But he would have to continue.

Steve knew that this was stupid, hiding medical conditions was ridiculous and dangerous.

But these kids had been through too much. They weren’t even sixteen yet, and they all had nightmares, a few of them had panic attacks , a couple of them had even seen people die. They shouldn’t have to take on the additional burden of his brain damage.

Steve eventually gave up trying to chop, deciding that the piles in front of him were enough. El spread out the dough, her black shirt now a powdery grey, coated with flour, her eyes bright as she proudly showed her perfectly round bases, spinning in the air.

It took a lot of effort to smile, wave the children back towards their game, and then get the pizzas into the oven, without burning himself. The pressure in his head began to increase, the pain amplifying every time that someone talked, the usually pleasant smell of pizza becoming unbearably pungent.

Migraines. Why not headaches? Or even just not at all?

Steve couldn’t get his painkillers, the strong ones , because he had put them in the lounge, where everyone was, inside the safe, where all of the other medicines were. He gathered up all of his strength and called everyone in to eat.

Those were the most painful five minutes of his life. He had never been so thankful for how fast the kids ate. If Steve had been normal, a rather distant concept to everyone at the time, but if that had been the case, he would not have been slowly chewing on a bland piece of bread, his eyes half shut, but looking normal, if tired.

The boy probably would have been curled up on the floor, covering his eyes and ears, whimpering in pain.

Nancy, of all people, came to his rescue. “Why don’t we all go for a walk, huh?” The kids all loved it, not only because they liked scouting the area, ‘just in case”, but also because Hopper and Joyce had ingrained it into them that walking was good, and fun, and essential if they wanted to be ready if anything ever happened again. Steve had the beautiful excuse of that he had to wash the dishes, and when the kids protested, he announced that he would have something prepared for them when they came back.

Whatever. He had ice cream in the freezer, caramel sauce in the fridge, chocolate chips and hundereds-and-thousands in the cupboards. They went off, and he went to stumble off to his cold, dark, soft room, when he realised that he wasn’t alone.

El.

 _Of course_ , she didn’t like going out into the woods, memories of being outside, alone, and being hunted haunting the poor girl. Steve could sympathise quite easily. The small girl looked at him, and them frowned, her lips pressing together into a thin line.

“Head. Hurt.”

“Yeah El, i’ve got a headache, everyone gets them.”

“ No. Friends don’t lie!”

The sound of her shouting hurt his head, and for a second, the world spun dangerously. The pain intensifying,along with his desire to crawl in a nice dark, silent hole.

She wanted answers, but he couldn’t do it. Also, there were more pressing issues at the moment.

He ran into the bathroom, and quickly saw all of his food come back up, the nausea that had been building up for the past half-hour reaching its climax.

Gosh, he hated migraines. El was standing behind the door, looking at him sadly as he sat, wiping his mouth, on the cool bathroom tiles.

“’S okay El. My head sometimes hurts, and this happens. It’s not fun, and, it’s kinda gross, so don’t like telling people.”

El nodded,( or she didn’t, the world was moving in ways it shouldn’t), and helped him up, her powers being the main thing that was keeping him upright.

 _Pathetic_. Him not being able to stand up alone. Ugh.

His little sister helped him to the guest room, the curtains all shutting, and the lights going off. He unashamedly curled up on the bed, and smiled when El curled up beside him, the blanket lifting to cover him. Time went on. The pain continued, and yeah, he may have shoved the pillow in his mouth to smother the whimpers. Eventually, after about a decade, or whatever, the pain began to reduce, and he sat up, El smiling at him, before gingerly wrapping her arms around his chest.

“Not hurt now?”

“Yeah El, it goes away after a while.”

“It comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“ You don’t want people to know?”

“Hmm”

She stared at him, frowning, before nodding.

“Okay.”

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he was too exhausted to care.

He needed sugar.

They went back to the kitchen, and El spoke softly, dimming the lights, as they made a sundae bar on the dining room table, the only sound being him chewing on some taffy.

They heard the voices of their friends, and Steve honestly had never felt so happy to realise that the migraine had finished. He could now enjoy this, this family he had found, without the looming fear of that his head would attack him.

El turned to him, too-serious brown eyes meeting his as she said, softly, but with a force behind it:“I will not tell. But you should.”

He nodded, and within the next five minutes, his house was invaded, everyone pouring sauces, sprinkles and jams on the ice cream, joy radiating in a humungous yellow-orange cloud over the dining room table.

Yeah, Steve was feeling good.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thank You for reading  
> 2\. Idk, if you guys want me to do any specific oneshots, or AUs... like, I can try?  
> 3\. Take care. :)


End file.
